The little girl and the long way home
by Grimlinden
Summary: The story proposes an ending to the manga series, picking up where chapter 146 ends. I prepared an introduction with specific drafting notes to explain a bit more about the making of.
1. Introduction and drafting notes

Hello everybody! After a long life of lurking, I decided that it was time to get over my shyness and share with you some of my attempt to add a touch of personal feeling to one of my favorite manga of all time.

Since the very beginning, and it was quite some time ago, I felt that this series was touching me, as it was deeply hitting on subjects that always moved me a lot, then and today, years passing notwithstanding. Friendship and camaraderie, family, purpose in existence, spirit of sacrifice, force of will, all while brewing an epic struggle between good and evil, yet with the twist of fighting fire with fire with the risk of getting burned even when winning.

I don't know where the original story will go, as I feel like there are a lot of hints that would still be very much worth exploring, but at the same time I believe that the momentum built as of chapter 146 would need some closure. Undoubtedly the visual force and the spirit of the author will do justice to a long journey with the audience, but I cannot help but going with the flow of my thoughts and attempt to put in words what is my view for an ending according to my desires.

A few notes for the readers: (i) the story picks up from chapter 146, the last available (at least in English) at the time it is drafted; (ii) English is not my mother tongue, I tried to post something not hurting grammar and dictionaries too much, but I know I have limits, please bear with me; (iii) I tried to respect characters' traits to the best of my ability, as a careful borrower; (iv) I do not mean to hurt anybody's feelings, expectations or view; I would welcome any comment and criticism, but trust me when I say that I honestly enjoyed picturing the scenes I attempted to describe and am sharing them with you in good faith; (v) the rating is conservative, for the sake of prudence, and (v) I am still polishing some parts, which do not feel so fluid; I am unsure how to do it though, and I thought that readers' suggestions would be also helpful.

Well, enough with the ados, I hope you will enjoy the reading, at least a little.


	2. The voice within

**=I=**

**The voice within**

What they were doing was all in vain. Every new move of Priscilla was taking them closer to the end.

Chronos fought bravely, he was all that was left of the legacy of the male Claymores, and did not want to go down in silence, but with pride as a warrior in his prime. Until the very last moment, he grasped the image of Lars in his human form. He was smiling and looking at Chronos with complicity. It was the smile of the day they recognized their love and their friendship went beyond. "Lars, I am coming now…" he thought, in peace, as Priscilla was shredding his body to pieces.

Clare, Miria and all other Claymores were fighting at they never fought before, exploiting every instant of their life together to foster their coordination and strength. Octavia adapted incredibly well and quickly, and was gladly fighting as the Claymore she used to be. She still believed Europa made the only rationale choice, but she had never run and she never would. She was looking upon generations and generations of Claymores, and it was her right place to be.

It was not enough.

Priscilla was too strong, and she had not even reached the peak of her power, yet. Feigning an attack on Miria she prompted a coordinated efforts of all Claymores to protect their leader, but then she went for her real target, Cassandra. The abyssal one assaulted her with a mix of rage, survival instinct and technique, but Priscilla just evaded all strokes and piercing through with her left claw, she dived into Cassandra's abdomen. Cassandra started to tremble in seizures, lashing against everything out of control and with horrifying screams. At Miria's hint, all Claymores dodged the lashes and attacked Cassandra's body, but as they were close to hit it, the surface transmuted into a dark purple crystal, which deflected all hits. They were forced to go back in combat stance and wait.

Lines of fractures all of a sudden started to create in Cassandra's body, which then exploded in a burst of crystal splinters. Priscilla emerged, in her horned demon form and with her evil grin. Looking at the grey sky, she was feeling complete: "I am… as one. No memory is hidden, now. Nothing is amiss from my being anymore.". She then turned her eyes to the Claymores, her piercing gaze on Clare. "I know I won't feel what I hoped, but I have gone through long looking forward to the chance of killing you again, and time has come. Plus, your friends are a nice addition."

Priscilla was enjoying it, very much. She enjoyed her amusement with Raki and the way that through overwhelming Raki's training she also defeated Isley again. She enjoyed her fight with Riful, especially in that weird fusion with the grunt of hers. She had already toyed with Chronos, extinguishing a breed of inferior males. And she knew she could become even stronger, and now that she had absorbed Cassandra she felt that she was right. But now the scenario was like a special gift. She could fight Claymores pathetically wishing her dead for years, including Clare, that little girl frantically attempting to breath among her tears for Teresa, even if she could not feel the real thrill of a battle. "Mmh, now, who should I start with?"

Clare was looking at Priscilla as horned demon, current sight and memories overlapping, mesmerized. As a fresh Claymore, she was just a bit short of perfection. Awakened, she was the sum of all fears, unstoppable. Her final form was pure evil beauty, without the chaos of other awakened beings. She chose that form for herself, Clare was sure about it. Her will was strong enough to contain the power in the form she had the day she was born as the scourge of her time. She wanted to be an enduring memento to self: when all her memories got back, that moment was the sweeter of her existence. When she killed Teresa, the Claymore that had humiliated her twice. And yet, she was the one last standing, she was the winner. Clare pictured that Priscilla could savor the surprise in Teresa's eyes, as she disarmed her. She could savor how the Claymore could not recover in time, as she was aiming for her head.

In Clare's memories, there was despair in the hearts of Irene and the others. And she could still feel her fear as little girl, so powerful that even if every bit of her was telling her to run away as fast as she could, or to rush to Teresa's body, or to grab a rock and hit Priscilla, she remained still as stone.

Clare looked around at her companions. They had been able to wound Priscilla, but only to see her superior regeneration powers to wash away all their efforts, and they were growing tired. She showed no exhaustion and was escalating, and they were already slowing down.

Priscilla then seemed as she had finally decided what to do, and spoke to Clare: "I remember that the Organization ranked the Claymores. I was number two when I was only a child, and defeated your legendary number one. Now, I exist in a world beyond your world. Nothing compares to me, I am the origin, and the end. I am the incarnation of fate, a fate of death."

Clare yelled in rage: "You could never defeat her, you could just kill her. Her only fault was not to see that you were becoming all you wished for. You were not resisting, you never wanted to! You were fighting youma but your heart always wanted to become one! You deserved no mercy… You deserved nothing!"

Clare remembered when Teresa was cut down by Priscilla. She could not move, she could not find the courage to die, to honor the Claymore that saved her. "This is all my fault, I caused all of this. I am just a nullity that doomed everything it touched… I made Teresa break rules, I made her soft... I wanted hope… A mother… I just… ruined everything."

Priscilla smiled, she wanted to taunt Clare, and apparently it was such an easy task.

Clare's anger and resolve returned. She squeezed her grip on her sword and mustered her youki. She recalled when Jean died to save her, to bring her back. Another one better than her dying before her eyes to save her when she did not deserve it. She could not awaken again, because she was seeing Jean's eyes. But now, she no longer felt any boundary: there was no point in holding, she would die that day, as she should have died with Teresa long before. Maybe leaving behind all humanity she could be of some help. Miria, the others, might have had an opportunity this way. All was lost for her, but for once she could perhaps help for real.

She surrendered to the flow of youki, without regrets. She felt her body changing, as years before against Rigaldo; then, more than that. She felt her point of non-return, and then passed it. She did not need to return. She understood it then: no true awakening can be reached if one wishes to return; she had to let go. She would be dead long before but for Teresa, she lived on borrowed time and no longer wanted to. As she was feeling the beast taking over, there was still part of her that's could not enjoy her state. Perhaps she was still better than Priscilla, but this provided no comfort. She was aware that everything was now driven by necessity. There was no choice, probably there had never been.

"There is another choice, child"

A weak voice sounded in her mind, like a shy whisper, but Clare dismissed it. She felt the sheer power of the awakening, growing and growing to match her fury. Time slowed down, she could perceive the surroundings on different spectrums, everything was black, white and auras. She could clearly see the heart of darkness within her enemy. She craved destruction for her nemesis, all she wanted was to hurt her, to make her pay, to throw at her all she had.

Miria and the others were worriedly watching Clare. In a whisper, they were begging Clare to stop. None could raise her voice, they knew it would not matter and stood still sensing the terrible powers in struggle. After all, their life was that of monsters fighting monsters.

Priscilla was wearing her best grin as she was watching Clare's transformation: "I feel your power… Barely, to be honest. It's nothing. I ignored you long ago, maybe I really hoped to have the chance to kill you, and her, again, after some fight, but… You are no fight. You are still… entertaining though, that I admit."

Clare was furious: "Shut up!" She charged, her forceful steps stomped the ground, breaking stones when discharging the strength for a leap. She was using her sword, and her off-hand claw, and all her tendrils as whips or blades, in a storm of blows. However, Priscilla nonchalantly dodged the attacks and continued to speak, without even assuming a combat stance.

"As a fighter you are decent, but probably even some of your companions here would beat you. You started as the last of them all, and over time could climb a few positions. Ah ah… Should I be impressed?"

Clare kept attacking, to no avail. Her blows were savage, but none of them was landing. Priscilla continued to enjoy her monologue.

"And your awakening? I bet you still hoped to live in a fairy tale, where passion and pure feelings at the end could win. Clare, the tragic hero, sacrificing everything to beat evil. Well, I am sorry to spoil it for you, but you are even short of the power of the abyssal lords. I defeated creatures just today that could easily obliterate you. You prove no match for me. You have little youma in you, Claymores are vessels of youma, and you are almost an empty vessel. No wonder why your youki is so limited."

Clare was in a state of uncontrolled and blind rage, she was frantically trying to hit Priscilla, screaming. "Shut up and fight!"

It was then that Priscilla stopped grinning, and started to fix Clare in the eyes. Priscilla's stare was penetrating. The fearful being that Clare was in that moment felt subdued, and stopped.

"You felt it just now, little Clare, didn't you? You tried to hide in your berserker rage, to ignore the inevitable. But I am the inevitable and all you should feel is awe and fear. You should bow before me, you should worship me as your god!"

Priscilla attacked, Clare attempted to defend. For every blow she managed to dodge or parry three others were hitting her. She was not feeling much pain, and soon even her feral instincts and self-preservation stopped to sustain her. They were broken, as she was. Everything of her being recognized that soon it would be over and that there was nothing else to do but to accept the end and the oblivion. There was no hope, probably there had never been. The future would just be like that silent hill up North, where seventeen swords tell those passing by that lives faded away in vain.

A few instants after Clare was a disfigured body, with gaping lashes everywhere. She was still standing only by virtue of a sort of abandonment inertia. Her sword was slipping from her left hand and gently touching the ground, harmless.

Her nemesis was now grinning again, looking at her wounds: "It is unlikely, but I need to know if there is anything of you I can use if I absorb you. Go ahead, show me how you regenerate, take your time I will kill you after."

Priscilla then went back to face the other opponents. "I did not forget about you, do not worry, now I will take care of your useless existences."

Clare was immobilized and was watching blood and ichor flowing off her wounds, indifferent. They were healing quite fast, but it did not matter. All her youki and her awakening were sort of sedated, as if bowing, dwarfed before a superior being. Then, she heard the voice again.

"The child I knew had more spirit than you. Do you fight or just commiserate with yourself?"

This time, Clare recognized the voice, and she did not dismiss it. She felt confused, and did not know what to do. She then just closed her eyes and tried to reach out.


	3. A mother's lesson

**=II=**

**A mother's lesson**

Clare felt as if grabbed violently by a force she could not oppose, her spirit dragged into a spiraling tunnel without end. Then she found herself in a pool of water. She was in human form, naked. The pool had an otherworldly pale blue fluorescence and the water was milky and tepid, welcoming. She saw another figure in the pool, first blurry but then, over time, becoming recognizable, her faint smile on her face.

She wanted to cry, but the ambience was soothing and a sense of peace had embraced her since the beginning, and she kept calm, even if tears were flowing from her eyes.

"Teresa…"

"Child…"

Again memories flashed before Clare's eyes. Teresa hugging her in the woods, with the flickering light and the popping sounds of the campfire. Clare falling asleep in Teresa's lap, in an inn room that felt like a long-lost home. When she was given her first traveling suit. When she was rescued by the bandits. She rushed to Teresa and hugged her, with all her strength.

"So… There is paradise… Every day, every instant of my life all I wanted was to be with you again…"

"You are alive, child, and fighting."

"It cannot be, I must be dead by now. I sought vengeance all my life, and failed. I failed you. I killed you and then failed you, I…"

Teresa's image release the embrace and waved a hand to shush her.

"You gifted me with the best moments of my existence, Clare. The only worth living. I would not trade those for anything. And it's me that failed you, I should've protected you from a life like this. It is me that should have been stronger, you were a little girl."

"But… I did no good to you, you'd never died hadn't it been for me. You broke rules for me, I made you weak and you died because of me!"

"I died, yes. Had I remained harder and less forgiving, I might have survived, but never lived. You taught me to live again Clare, when I felt it was no longer possible. What is a long existence without life…"

"Teresa… Let me stay here, forever, with you."

"Soon there will be no 'here'."

"Where are we?"

"You tell me… I think this is a space generated by your spirit and your youki."

"Eh?"

"I am just a… guest. You let myself, my flesh, my blood, inside you. And with them, my spirit."

"Your spirit? You have been with me?"

"Yes. I watched every step. I witnessed every moment. The pain, the sorrow, the happiness... the rare happiness."

"I have never been happy…"

"Yes, you have been. With Raki. For a few moments I sensed your happiness, against all odds. You were happy with Miria and the others, too, sometimes. In front of a campfire you could find relief. Fragments of joy, in a sorrow's path, but there nonetheless. Those moments should remind you that the sky cannot be grey forever. And maybe, that there is something worth fighting for."

"Teresa… Why haven't you showed up in all these years?"

"I have. I have been with you when you were in need."

Clare recalled the times she had felt like someone was helping her, even teaching her. Moves learned overnight, yet untrained. Warmth embracing her when she needed, hope sustaining her when in dire straits.

"It was you, Teresa. I should know it, I should… understand, follow the way, find you. Why couldn't I come here sooner…"

"I don't know, child. Perhaps because it is the only time you are consciously giving up humanity, and your last bits of it sensed me and wished to say goodbye one last time. I don't have all the answers."

"Yes, perhaps. All is lost, now. I cannot return, I will die as the monsters I have been chasing all life. But it was worth it, just for this time with you…"

"That girl, had more spirit than you."

"What?"

"I saw courage, when you hit that bandit in the woods. What am I looking at now?"

"I tried Teresa, but I cannot beat her. I know I made a promise, but I cannot keep it. I tried… everything. And I awakened. I… accepted to awaken. No, I wanted to, it feels… good, it is like leaving the world behind, and misery too. I accept it, and not to return."

"If you could not return, we would not be here, child."

"The beast, I cannot resist… And… there is no purpose…"

"You chose to become a warrior, your purpose is to fight."

"But… I can't beat her, I am useless."

"And why can't you beat her?"

"I do not have enough strength. She's too powerful. I tried everything, I… accepted to awaken, not to ever return. It was not enough… She just laughed at me. I knew it, but I did it anyway, I don't know, I just wanted everything to stop. I cannot take it anymore."

For the first time, Teresa's smile left her face and her eyes grew harder.

"Answer my question."

"What?"

"I asked why can't you beat her."

"She's stronger than me…"

Teresa slapped Clare, her expression becoming tougher.

"Now you will be answering me, and quit with this childish excuses."

Clare could not understand. She did not feel any pain being hit, but it was like she felt the hit nonetheless. Mechanically she covered her cheek with a hand.

"I do not…"

Teresa slapped her again on the other cheek, more strongly. Clare lost balance for a moment, and waves of milky water formed and dissipated over time; again she did not feel pain, but saw the consequences of the stroke, as in Rafaela's world.

"Why do you do this to me… Not now, Teresa, please… I beg you…"

Teresa slapped her again; yet, she did not feel pain, but was hurt, deeply.

Teresa's expression was hard, but there was no malevolence in her eyes: "One last time, child, why can't you beat her?"

It was as if Clare listened to the question for the first time. She had heard it already, but had not listened. She could not understand, or could she? She thought of Priscilla, and she saw flashes of her on the battlefield, her moves, her strokes. She considered.

"Her youki has no bounds, she is too fast… I cannot hit her, I cannot defend from her. Even when we were hitting her, she regenerated in seconds…"

Teresa's smile came back, gentle: "So you could hit her, or not?"

"Well yes, a few times, but she was still building up her power, now she got Cassandra and she is complete. I cannot anymore. I tried, Teresa, I…"

Again, Teresa waved a hand to shush her, with authority, yet kindly.

"What is speed, Clare?"

It was the first time she called her by name, as if she was not longer a child.

"Speed? Well… It defines how fast things move in space."

"And during a fight, is it the same?"

"Why, yes… The consequences are how many blows one can land and face. The ground you can cover, many things."

"And what defines your speed?"

"My strength, my muscles, my stamina… My youki…"

"Your skills, your balance, your clear mind, your vision."

"What do you mean?"

"Was it your brute force allowing you to control your legs against Rigaldo, or did you learn how to? Every fight is a dance, to dance you must be balanced. You do not dance well if your strength is our of control and there is no finesse. You do not fight well if you do not dance well."

"Well, yes, of course, but… I reached the limit of my skills and experience. They are what they are, I can only seek more and more strength. I trained, Teresa, I trained … Every day, I welcomed every fight, because I felt it could help me improve. I did, but she is more skilled, she just is. I tried to become stronger, but she just is…"

"You do not believe in you, Clare. You do not realize how far you have gone. The Claymores that met you saw your infinite potential. If they were foes, they tried to kill you. If they were friends, they tried to teach something to you. No, more than that, they trusted you with their essence. In all this you learned, but you do not trust what you learned. Let them help you, let your experiences help you."

Clare seemed tired of a discussion she could not completely understand: "Well, I trained, yes, with other Claymores. I tried to teach them what I had learned, too. So we had better chances to win. Same reason why they did it…".

Then the memory of Jean's smile hit Clare, so did the memory of Irene severing her remaining arm, and awareness started to grow. "No, it was not just… training…"

Teresa nodded, then continued: "Say, what part of what you have learned is failing against Priscilla?"

"I told you! I... told you... She is faster, she is more… She is complete!"

"Have her skills improved? Has her speed?"

"Of course…"

Teresa slapped her again.

"Think Clare. Think. Is it so?"

Clare was not sure what she was supposed to do, but tried to scan the last moments of the fight. She felt like there was something obvious, so close to her and yet so slippery. She saw again Priscilla, how fast, how unreachable her speed was, how clumsy Clare looked in front of her. Then, a glimpse of understanding.

"Wait… She is stronger, and faster. But… I can't explain…"

"Try harder, Clare."

"She… Our… The difference between us, increased but… It is as if…"

"See it Clare, stop watching, just see it."

"She is faster than she was. Stronger. She evolved, but… considering her alone… marginally, she was insane already. It is us… together… That changed more…"

"Yes. You welcomed the awakening, a feral status. It is driven by hatred and instincts. You turned into a brawler. Skills and experience must control the strength to exploit it, but they can do so up to a certain point. After, raw strength can no longer be controlled, channeled. It just takes over."

"So, the awakening does not make you stronger?"

"Strength, power, can assume many forms. The youki flowing enhances some of them, at the others' expense. Your body becomes faster, but it is for your mind to use it and if the mind tires too much or, to the extreme, regresses to feral status, you use only a portion of the potential and let yourself to be blinded by rage."

"I recall… When you fought Priscilla the second time, you said you had to fight… seriously…"

"She was extraordinary, even then. Her youki was immense, and yet her control was almost perfect. I had to try my best."

"But you did not awake…"

"I could never beat her brawling, but I had a chance dancing."

"I cannot beat Priscilla brawling either."

"No, but if you stop wasting time trying, there is still something for you to learn and you will know if you have a chance dancing."


	4. The dancer and the blade

**=III=**

**The dancer and the blade**

Clare was back to her senses on the battlefield, her eyes closed. She soon heard the heavy breathing of her comrades, they were scattered on the ground, holding blood-gushing wounds. Priscilla was looking at her, holding Octavia's disfigured body in her hand by the head. Octavia's legs were kicking to break free, but she could not.

"Welcome back, Clare, it was funny looking at you daydreaming in your state. I hope you don't mind if I played a bit with your companions."

She closed her grip on Octavia, until her legs were no longer kicking.

"Mmh, probably you had no particular attachment to this one, but don't worry, I saved all others because I thought you might really enjoy watching them die. That Raki too should still be alive, I was thinking about tasting his guts later."

She slowly moved towards Miria, raising her sword.

"Stop."

Clare's voice was calm, but self-confident. Priscilla was surprised, and indeed stopped.

"You are not touching any of them until you are done with me."

"But I am done with you, stupid Clare. Don't you get it? We have come a long way together, but you should see it is the end."

"You are not touching any of them until you are done with me." Clare repeated it with authority.

Priscilla started to move towards Clare, slowly, feeling no need to urge and savoring the moment: "Oh, I see, a last wish... So be it, I should know that this would get boring sooner or later…"

As Priscilla was getting nearer, Clare took control of her youki, regressing from her awakened state. It was a painful process, she had to fight in agony with every fiber of her body and wished to scream, but she did not want to show any weakness. Her conscience fought the beast, and won.

Once again Priscilla seemed surprised: "How did you do that? You were far gone…"

Clare finally realized what Teresa meant, and felt invigorated.

"I see her, she is here with me."

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Jean, who trusted me with her force of will."

After she was done, Clare gripped her sword gently, but firmly, and she assumed a combat stance, her eyes still closed.

"I don't understand what you are blabbing..."

Clare felt control over her body, again. Every limb reminded her of a sister. She felt the blood through her right arm and saw Irene. She felt water reaching up to her knees, and she saw herself holding Ophelia, still puzzled, still in conflict, but holding to her brother's memory. She thought of fast strokes, precise, controlled, and she pictured Flora, her expression at peace. She felt filled with the techniques of all Claymores of the North War. She then pictured Rafaela, cradled with Luciela. She remembered how she cradled with Elena, during her training; she remembered the black letter, the honor and the sadness behind it.

"I see them, they are here with me."

"Mph, must be an effect of the awakening, you are out of your mind. Keep going though, I think I like it."

"My comrades long gone. My sisters. They are here with me."

Clare advanced further and turned her head towards Miria and the others, yet her eyes closed. She did not need to watch, she could feel their youki. It was weakened, but it had not faded entirely. Their youki was as if speaking to her, reminding her their techniques. Then she turned towards Rabona and could read what happened there. She felt all, dead and living; she felt Galatea, she was nodding in approval, as if she could feel Clare as well; she felt Miata, sobbing but watched over by unfettered love; she felt all the others, one by one.

"I see them. My sisters in this day. They are here with me."

Clare advanced further, the turned towards Priscilla and changed combat stance, suddenly opening her eyes. They were cat-like, golden and glowing vividly, but her face was quiet, without any other sign of demonic power.

"And you too see her. My mother. She is here with me."

"First, control your youki. Remember, you are a dancer" - Teresa told her.

Priscilla immediately recognized the stance and started laughing: "Ah ah, this is glorious. I thought you wished to die as an awakened being, oblivious in rage. I see that now you wish to die as she died. Are you doing this for me? As I said, I believe I kept you alive hoping to kill her again. I will not feel the same thrill, but sure it is almost romantic watching your attempt to copy her."

Suddenly, Priscilla attacked. She covered the last ground at flash speed, thrusting her blade with one hand at Clare's head. Clare side-stepped at the last moment, a superficial cut opening on her cheek. Priscilla forged bladed tendrils out of her other hand, aiming at Clare's chest, Clare jumped and avoided them, landing further back.

Priscilla did not pursue her immediately: "What am I looking at, Clare? All your bravery is devoted to try to dodge some of my attacks? What an achievement… Let's see what you can do when I am faster than your eyes!"

She then resumed her attack, this time thrusting the sword from afar, unnaturally prolonging her arm, the movement was swifter, but Clare deflected the blow with her guard. Priscilla tried two more hits, but they were deflected as well.

"Second, adapt to her speed, she will increase it as she will see you unarmed. Reach confidence with your defense, before attempting to strike" - Teresa told her.

Clare then saw Priscilla jumping at her, her hand closed in a fearful fist. She punched her in the chest, with unnatural violence. Clare seemed to take the hit, but gave no opposition and let the blow slide on her armor, all force being dissipated in the air. The first punch was followed by a flurry of blows, sword thrusts and slashes, punches, and kicks in a whirlwind of fury, most of them missed and those which connected did not find anything solid to damage.

"Third, do not attempt to match the force of her blows. Avoid them, or absorb what you must and deflect the rest. Be the still water of this pool, let the shockwaves dissipate."

Miria was holding her breath. She was badly wounded, but alive and still conscious. She could see some of Priscilla's blows, not all of them. Deneva came closer to her, slowly and painfully, with both her legs broken, too weak to regenerate fast as she would like.

"Miria, what is she doing? The first time she will take one of those hits it will be over… She should do something…"

"Do you feel it?"

"What?"

"The calm. When she was fighting awakened it was rage against rage, the air was filled with it. Now it is calmer…"

"What do you mean? Look what Priscilla is doing to the ground, she is splitting rocks, unearthing things, she if she continues the landscape itself will change."

"Yes, but Clare is not opposing, she just seconds Priscilla's movements…"

"She cannot dodge forever, Miria. We are all dead, we tried, but Priscilla is too much for us… We failed..."

"As in the Holy City, I see something strange in Clare's aura. I don't know, it…"

"What?"

"It... frightens me…"

"Is this a joke?"

"No... I fought against Priscilla and I was scared. A part of me knew that I had no chance, I proved... fear. But now, that part of me tells me that it is not Priscilla I should be scared of."

"Clare seems to have controlled her awakening, she wouldn't harm us..."

"It's not that... It is just... I always thought her youki was necessarily weaker, because she is only one quarter youma…"

"And?"

"I believe I always forgot to whom the other quarter belonged…"

Then Miria opened her eyes wide: "Deneva… I see them… We all swore that day, to carry their will. I see…" Miria looked at Deneva and realized she was seeing them too, and so were all the others: "Our sisters…"

Clare was adopting the stances and moves of all her comrades, masterfully. The others were seeing it, they even had the impression to see the faces of their sisters, as if Clare were a vessel of their souls.

Priscilla stopped another assault and again watched Clare intensely: "I must admit that you surprised me, but this ends now."

Youki pumped in all her body, and she prepared to attack again, moving towards Clare. This time Miria could not see any of her strokes, but kept watching as captured by the level of Priscilla's skills. Priscilla composed a pattern of strikes, to hit Clare from all directions, like a thick web of quickblade attacks.

"Then, her attacks will grow faster, and you will no longer be able to see any of them." - Teresa told her.

"What am I supposed to do, then?"

"You know it. You must sense them. You must know where they will land. This is the essence of youki reading."

"But, there is too much youki, I will be lost…"

"You will fight alone, the youki of your comrades will not mislead you. And you will control your youki, so it won't either. Focus on her."

"Still, it is too much Teresa, I cannot make it."

"It is hard… I could not make it. But you faced monstrous youki before, your threshold heightened, your reading improved. You inherited my senses, expanded them with Rafaela and now they are even stronger. You can feel the faintest trace and you can filter the strongest burst."

Clare kept calm, her heartbeat slowing down, and focused. Priscilla was blurry first, but then she could feel the motions. She could see like thin lines of light coming towards her. She could sense the strokes.

"I sense them Teresa, I sense them!"

Clare roared and for the first time leaped forward to meet Priscilla, her heartbeat now quickening. She faced all strikes as she wanted: dodging, deflecting, absorbing. She got so close she could smell Priscilla, and then she knew her time to defend was over.

"Last, you will become aggressive. Do not let the rage to take over, be calm, do not cherish those moments, do not indulge in your momentum, just strike. Just so." - Teresa told her.

"But I don't know if I will be able to hit her."

"You learned quickblade, you learned windcutter, it is time for you to go beyond. Guide the youki to your arms, control it, every new swing is a natural consequence of the former swing. Leave unnecessary movements aside, you are no longer a novice. Go with the flow, feel the rhythm, trust your skills."

Clare attacked. There was no fury, no rage, just a pattern of strokes. Each faster than the previous, all together in harmony. Priscilla dodged and parried all, first. Then she started to be hit. Clare was getting faster, she could not, she too had a limit, and had reached it. The first strokes landed superficially, then she started losing chunks of her body, a leg, the fingers, then the hand, then the whole left arm. A stroke then took away half of her horn, she ducked by instinct and Clare missed with the next one aimed straight at the head. This distracted Clare for a moment and Priscilla could backflip a few meters out of reach. She immediately started to regenerate, fast but without the usual disarming ease. She was panting and for the first time in years she could not feel to be entirely in control.

"I don't know how you could do that, but I will never be defeated by you, never!"

Priscilla then gathered all her youki and conjured a sphere of darkness around her. The sphere started to grow and, creeping, embraced all surroundings, including Clare. I was a maelstrom of dense darkness, with pulses of purple, dark red and cobalt lightning bursting off the center. lInside Clare was feeling like her energy was being drained, and it was pitch black, she could not see nor hear anything. The whole sphere was a storm of youki, and her senses were misled, she no longer knew where Priscilla was or how could she avoid her attacks. She went so close, and yet, again, it was not enough.


	5. The little girl and the long way home

**=IV=**

**The little girl and the long way home**

Once again, Clare felt alone and proved fear: "So this is the end…"

"Yes Clare, for you. Or for her."

Teresa was with her, as she had promised.

"For me, there is nothing I can do. Obviously she can see in this madness, I cannot. There is too much youki all around, I cannot sense anything either."

"She is a killer, Clare, like you, like us. She looked for an advantage, to hit you by surprise."

"For a moment, I thought I could get her. A few inches, I missed her head by a few inches."

"Focus, Clare, it is not over."

"What am I supposed to do? Simply to know where she is or she will strike? To read her mind?"

"You have a chance. She hit you before, didn't she?"

"Yes, I could not avoid two attacks to my left leg entirely, I decided to absorb and deflect them, but they were so strong, they still hurt, badly. I don't have time to regenerate."

"She probably noticed it."

"Yes, and by know she might well know that I am less reactive on my left side."

"Precisely."

"Precisely?" Clare realized it all of a sudden: "I know where she will be, she will attack me from the left side, my weak side. But... she might not even come in close quarter…"

"She is using most of her youki to sustain this powerful storm, she will need to come, gather her strength and attack. And I don't think she will miss the opportunity to be close to you when landing the killing blow."

"She can come anytime, Teresa… I will never know when to hit."

"As I said, you both are killers. She will come at the right time, she will know it. It's up to you to recognize it too."

"What do you mean? Teresa?"

Clare got no response. She clenched her teeth and squeezed the handle of her sword, as if needing to grip something concrete and familiar. She frantically threw wide arc strokes, but did not hit anything. Then she could calm down, a little. And she felt as if the storm lowered, almost imperceptibly.

"It's up to me to know it too… It's is up to me to know it too…" - she was repeating to herself, as she was trying to imagine how Priscilla would attack her.

"The storm lowered because she is getting closer and preparing to attack. And she will want my head…"

The force of the maddening storm calmed a bit more.

Clare tightened her grip on the sword and closed her eyes: "My left side... She will attack soon…"

The storm became a little calmer.

"Soon, she will attack soon..."

Yet the storm became quieter.

"She will attack… NOW!"

Clare stood her feet and raised her sword at shoulders' level, now holding it with both hands. She prepared to the blow to land, and it did. A mighty lash from the left. The swords clang connecting savagely. Upon the hit, Clare fought not to lose her sword but then slightly twisted her blade, dividing the blow's force in two. Part of it was deflected up, causing Priscilla to overstretch and imbalance; part of its was absorbed, and Clare felt her shoulders in pain to cope with the brute force, but she did not falter. She rather used the force to twirl around, her grip even tighter of the sword. Half a pirouette and she released all her strength on her left side, in a single thrust. She could not see anything, but she knew her aim was true. She felt the tip of her blade hitting something which made some resistance, then let it pass through. She felt cutting through flesh and bones, then the sword slowed down losing the initial burst and came to a stop.

The storm suddenly ceased and she could see again.

She had pierced through Priscilla's chest almost up to the hilt of her sword. Priscilla's sword was on the ground, near her feet, as she was holding Clare's blade to try and free herself. Priscilla's eyes were a mix of stupor, fear and… something else. She started to talk, with difficulty as she was spitting violet ichor, her body seizing.

"Clare… Teresa…"

Clare was looking at her, impaled on her sword. She wasn't feeling good as she thought she'd be.

"Clare… Teresa… Thank… you…"

Priscilla dropped to her knees, bending her torso to second the cut of Clare's sword to limit the pain.

"I always… hoped that one day… Stop me…"

Clare could not believe her ears, but Priscilla seemed sincere. Her eyes seemed freed of evil, the eyes of a young girl battered by life and fate. Still too young to face the horrors she was thrown against.

Priscilla started to sob, her monstrous lineaments becoming more human. Her horn was absorbed in the head, and she retreated fangs and claws. She was human, then.

Clare slowly retreated her sword, and readied herself.

"Please… Do not kill the monster… Free me..."

Clare stood still and kept looking at Priscilla's eyes: "Those eyes… How much suffering… Now I understand... This is what Teresa saw that day…"

Priscilla was feeling her chest regenerate and knew where her sword was. She could do it, again. She would survive, she would then vanquish her enemies and conquer the world.

"Please…"

The Claymores were yelling at Clare: "Finish her, finish her now. Clare, do it! Clare!"

Clare sheathed her sword, without releasing the handle: "I was told that hatred should guide our hands. The more the hatred, the more the power. If you lose hatred you lose resolve. If you lose resolve you are weaker."

Priscilla slowly stretched her hand closer to her sword: "Please…"

Clare closed her eyes: "I saw too much horror and pain, Priscilla. Everywhere. I hated you all my life, all I wanted was to kill you, but I see them now, I see those eyes. You endured horror and pain as well… You could become the hero of your time, so much was wasted… I prove… sympathy now… We are all monsters after all..."

Priscilla moved at lightning speed, reached for her sword and swang. Miria and the others were frozen in fear. It was as if time itself had stopped in expectation.

A gentle wind raised and whirled between the two contenders, caressing Priscilla's hair. Priscilla saw that she was with her weapon arm raised, holding her sword. Clare had not even drawn hers. She tasted victory. Yet, as she tried to move, somehow she could not. It was as if we did not have control of her body. She looked at Clare, still, yet. Her sight had dropped, though. It was as if she was dizzy. Then she heard Clare speak, but as if she was afar or her voice was dampened.

"I still see them, Priscilla. My sisters, my mother, who entrusted me to do this. But none of us could. All that suffering in your eyes… Every one of us would have doubted, for the split second you needed, at least. All of us would have wished for a moment of peace, for us, for you..."

Clare let the hilt of the sheathed sword and turned towards the Claymores. Then, she turned back to Priscilla, and smiled opening her eyes. They were glowing of a spirited green, burning with unextinguishable fire.

"But I also see her. That little girl, carrying Teresa's head that day. She is here with me. And she also entrusted me with something. With her hatred, Priscilla, for all these years. A hatred against someone who took everything away from her. A pristine hatred, out of time. A hatred that could not be soothed, no matter how many lives were taken around me. Her hatred knew no doubt. Time to die, now."

Priscilla felt her body starting to collapse, losing piece after piece. She did not see Clare drew her sword, but she had done it. Fast. Faster. The cuts were countless, on the head, the torso, the arms, the legs, everywhere. With the last moment of consciousness, Priscilla saw her claymore crumbling under the same blows that destroyed her. There were many questions unasked, if only she had some more time...

Clare started to walk towards her comrades, who were forcing themselves to stand. They were smiling, a tired smile after a sea of sorrow, but they were smiling, and waving at her. She reached them and they overwhelmed her with hugs, pats and jokes, as if it was the first time in ages that they could really release the tension.

"You scared us all you idiot, couldn't you kill her straight?" "How could you do that? So damn fast…" "What a show-off…" "Let's go to Rabona and celebrate!"

Clare was simply smiling and accepting everything, hugs, pats and jokes. She was overwhelmed by a feeling she did not know how to express. It was as in that inn on Teresa's lap. Yes, it was clear then. It had been a long and hard journey, but she finally made it home.

Miria put a hand on her shoulder, with an expression more serious that everybody else: "How did you sunder her sword like that?" She was the sharpest of them all and a natural leader. She was not allowing herself even an instant of relief, she needed to know. All of a sudden all other comrades went serious too, just out of their respect for Miria.

Clare's eyes were fixed on Miria, but they were absent. She was remembering Teresa in the pool of milky water, the last thing she had said before parting.

"Clare, there is still one thing I want to teach you."

"Yes?"

"You control the flow of your youki in your body. Your sword must be as a part of your body in all you do, let the youki flow in it."

"Let the youki flow in my sword? But…"

"Our swords are masterpieces, but our techniques use them. In many different ways, yes, but without changing them. Why limiting yourself to superior techniques, if you can aim at a superior weapon?"

"Teach me, mother."

Miria scrolled Clare as to bring her back from daydreaming: "Hey, wake up!"

"Sorry Miria, I'm sorry…"

"How…"

"It is a long story, Miria. And I believe that story is for me, and me alone. But if you want…"

"Yes?"

Clare opened in a bright, serene smile: "I can teach you."


	6. A clear blue sky

**=V=**

**A clear blue sky**

The Claymores recovered enough strength and started to march towards Rabona. The sky had cleared of the grey that had clouded it forever. Clare was the last of the group to be ready to leave, so many were the feelings in her. She raised her eyes to the sky. A blue sky, what a sight.

"Teresa…"

She got no response.

"Teresa, please…"

Silence.

"Mother… I will miss you. I always missed you, and I will miss you even more, now that I could see you again."

Silence.

"Well, I have to go now. I don't know what the future will bring, but we help humanity and will always do it. And now, there are cities to rebuild, a lot of work."

"Don't lie to me, child."

"Mother! What?"

"Cities to rebuild, a lot of work?"

"Well… There is a person I have been looking for more than seven years..."

"And?"

"And my sisters and I could spend some time together… Happy."

"Better."

"Do you think we can live a normal life, after all this?"

"You know the answer. You wished to be borne a warrior, you will die a warrior. But the path in between is for you to decide."

"I was afraid I'd never see or hear you again…"

"I no longer have anything to teach you, but I will always be there when you need me."

"Oh, mother..."

"But now, it is a sunny day and your friends await you. This includes that boy, perhaps now that he is all grown-up you will see better why you never let him go."

"I asked myself all these years... I still don't know."

"The path in between is for you to decide."

Clare started to cry, but it was just joyful. With warm tears flowing on her cheeks she run to the others, eager to see what tomorrow would bring.


End file.
